


no other version of me i would rather be

by hazy_daisy



Series: sing me a song, darling [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (only very slight mention though), Canon Compliant, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Siren Jaskier | Dandelion, a little bit of emotional healing, accidental morals acquisition, just a little interlude, just like. a tiny bit, look he's killed people but like. just a little bit., romance but like i'm ace and i forget it exists so it's kinda just a little thing at the end, slight angst, they're just sitting and talking :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazy_daisy/pseuds/hazy_daisy
Summary: The best course of action, he thinks, is to figure out what to say beforehand—that way his story won’t get meandering, won’t be annoying. Stick to the facts.Well, some of the facts. There’s some murder in there that Geralt didn’t seem amenable to hearing about when it first came up, but really, Jaskier thinks, it was all such a fun game that it can’t honestly count as murder.“I used to live in the deep sea,” he starts, appreciative of Geralt’s attention, “so the only things I knew about land were from stories."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: sing me a song, darling [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660483
Comments: 19
Kudos: 95





	no other version of me i would rather be

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey! before we jump in;  
> \- this is from a series of mine, but i don't think you need All the context? if you need an introduction or just a refresher, jaskier (a siren, predictably) kinda fucked up by singing geralt to sleep with that Siren Spice, geralt got upset, they fought some corpses with yennefer, cleared the air between them, and there was like? kind of a confession? on jaskier's side, at least. so uh. not quite sure where we're at romance-wise. that's for the follow-up work to flesh out.  
> \- geralt might be like a tiny bit ooc but i gave him some character development last time and things are just easier when he talks more (he talks a lot in the books! i promise! it's okay!)  
> \- title from jackie and wilson by hozier!

“So,” Geralt says, looking up at Jaskier over the hilt of his sword. His tone is a pleasant neutral. “How did you end up becoming a bard?”

Jaskier laughs, at that. It’s an amusing story, really—well, not so much a story as a statement, but he thinks it’s funny, regardless. “It really wasn’t that difficult. You may have noticed, Geralt, but the main characteristic of a siren is the ability to sing.”

It’s a nice day. The sun is shining, they’re sitting in a little clearing so that Roach can have a break, because her hoof’s been bothering her lately, and Jaskier and Geralt are sitting side-by-side. Not overly close, with Geralt’s sword in his lap, but close enough that Jaskier feels a good bit of warm, fuzzy feelings. It’s  _ nice _ , to have this sort of domesticity; to have this familiarity with Geralt. Say what you will about revealing your identity as a nonhuman to a witcher, but it certainly clears the air in a relationship, romantic or not. 

Geralt rolls his eyes, still good-natured, and goes back to polishing his sword. Jaskier thinks he’s been a lot easier to get along with, since he started getting more sleep. Nightmares don’t do anyone any favors, obviously, but he suspects that a good portion of Geralt’s irritability had to do with the lack of rest. “That’s not what I meant, Jask.”

“Oh, did you want a real answer?” Jaskier asks, blinking innocently. “Charisma and a lot of moxie.” 

It’s still not enough to get Geralt to laugh, but it does get a slight smile and a shake of his head.

Realistically, though, Geralt doesn’t want a real answer. Jaskier’s well enough aware of this. “Geralt, dear,” he starts, with a smile that’s really closer to a cringe. “You know how I am. You’re asking for my life story, and you  _ know _ you won’t be able to get me to shut up once I’ve started—” his joking tone when it’s self-conscious is always just a little too light, too conspicuous, it’s a shame really—”so really, it’s best to leave it at that—”

It’s hard to describe the look that Geralt gives him. Jaskier almost thinks it might be concern. He knows it’s not  _ worry _ —a week ago, when they’d been fighting maggoty corpses in a village cemetery, and Geralt had pulled a corpse off of him and saved his life, he hadn’t looked worried even then. Now, his eyebrows are pressed together, like he’s trying to figure something out.

Jaskier squirms a bit under Geralt’s gaze. “Worry not, darling, I’ve heard your complaints time enough.” He offers a grin, and tries to make it winsome, but trying to cover for insecurity is nothing like lying and nowhere near as easy or fun. 

“I don’t mind,” Geralt, says, finally, and Jaskier stops short. “I asked, didn’t I?”

Well. That’s not what Jaskier was expecting. He glances over at Roach, grazing contentedly at the edge of the clearing, as if she’ll tell him that he’s not dreaming, that she heard the same thing. Or, really, considering dream logic, if he’s dreaming, she’ll look up and talk to him with his mother’s voice, warble something in siren language even though it doesn’t travel right through air, tell him,  _ you’re ever so silly, my little dandelion, you can’t really think he’d want to sit and listen to you talk _ . 

“I’m fucked up, aren’t I,” he says, before he realizes that he’s speaking out loud.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, and his eyebrows press further together, and that really is concern, isn’t it? That little furrow in his brow? That or annoyance, but Jaskier knows what his annoyance looks like, and it’s not that. 

“Nothing,” he says hastily, and then, more reluctantly, “You really want to know?”

Geralt’s answer is… careful. “Yes, Jaskier.”

Jaskier whistles out his surprise—a quick, dexterous up-down sound to relieve some tension, because he’s good at whistling, he likes it (and he’s heard a similar sound be called a wolf whistle and he thinks it’s funny to use it around Geralt). There’s a whistling sound in response from the trees; Geralt glances up at it, tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword, but Jaskier feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders and laughs. “It’s just a bird, darling.” He whistles back once more, closer to the tones of the bird, and receives another response, tittering and musical.

“That happen often?” Geralt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well—yes,” Jaskier admits, feeling rather abashed. “Not as often as I would’ve liked, really, since I was trying to hide that sort of thing from you, but it’s all fine, now!”

“It sounds like something out of a children’s tale,” Geralt says. “Birds singing back to you.” If Jaskier didn’t know better, he would say there’s something wistful in his voice.

But he does know better, so he lets himself perk up. “It does, doesn’t it? I was surprised—land animals aren’t fond of me, you know, I think I smell too much like the sea and cats always bite me, I think they’re trying to eat me, and you must’ve seen that Roach doesn’t like me—well, when I came up on land for the first time, I mimicked the birds, and they sang right back to me! I’d thought it might work—some sailors carry parrots, you know, and they would call back at us, but parrots are good vocal mimics as well, so I wasn’t sure whether it was something all birds did or just the very intelligent ones, but I think birds just like to sing, and they’re happy to have a partner.”

“Ah,” says Geralt. He looks a little overwhelmed.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, realizing. “But you wanted to know how I became a bard. Different story. Hold on, dear, just a moment.”

The best course of action, he thinks, is to figure out what to say beforehand—that way his story won’t get meandering, won’t be annoying. Stick to the facts. 

Well, some of the facts. There’s some murder in there that Geralt didn’t seem amenable to hearing about when it first came up, but  _ really _ , Jaskier thinks, it was all such a fun game that it can’t honestly count as murder.

“I used to live in the deep sea,” he starts, appreciative of Geralt’s attention, “so the only things I knew about land were from stories.

“My mother would tell them to me, sometimes—I think my father was human, in all honesty, but I do look very siren-y sometimes, and Mum was never one to kiss and tell, so there’s no way of knowing for sure. Either way, she knew all these wonderful things, when I was little, about creatures with soft fur and about snow. That always seemed rather marvel. She would tell me about humans, too—creatures that looked like us with legs, like a bug, and I was rather impressed with them when I saw a human for the first time. We were living with a pod, then, and the very small sirens aren’t allowed to come along and play when the ships get close, in case they get hurt, so you can imagine how curious I was.

“When I was big enough, though, I was allowed to get closer to the ships, to see the humans—oh, I’d like to give you an age range, but seasons don’t mean much in the sea, we kept track of things by the moon if we had to keep track of them at all—that was the first time I really thought about what it would be like to  _ live _ up there. The first time I conceptualized it as some place real, not just a bedtime story. And then an instrument fell into the water, and some clothes—”  _ along with a person, but better to leave that out— _ “and it just seemed so fascinating, that humans made music with things other than their voices. I knew they could sing. You can hear a sailor’s song for miles over the ocean, if the wind carries right, and when they all sing together there’s a thrum of it in the water that echoes in your bones, and I thought they were rather more like us; clumsy though, of course, with inefficient voices, not very pretty things. I have an appreciation for human voices now, but really, Geralt, you have to understand, human voices are like birdsong. When humans sing, it’s not… not much more than musical speech, do you understand? Humans are just speaking in music. When sirens sing… well, Geralt, I suppose you’d know a bit about how it sounds, but sirens sing  _ deeper _ . It’s not just music, it’s… echoes, of the cosmos, embodying the sound of the sea, personifying the light of the moon. When sirens sing, it’s with the sound of the world, of nature, of life. Humans sing with their own voices. It’s admirable, but I thought it was rather childish.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I’d thought that they were like us; that they used their silly inefficient voices to make music. Humans are always making new things to assist them, though. You’ve seen it—your swords, spears, houses. You all need so much to live. It’s troublesome, really. It’s easier to be armed with your teeth, sleep on a bed of kelp if one comes your way, live wherever you happen to be. That’s why I became a bard, I think. Well, the music, obviously, I liked that—but if I did anything else, I’d have to settle down somewhere like a human, build a house, find a plow, and that just wasn’t tenable for me. 

“But I picked up that harmonica and those clothes and I told my mother that I wanted to see what it was like on land. She told me no, of course, I was big enough to see the ships but I was still very young—so I sat there, and I figured out how to play that harmonica (it did take me awhile to realize that it was meant to be played above the water, and I’ll tell you, I was far more satisfied with the sound once I did) and I kept collecting fancy clothing that fell off ships, and eventually my mother took me closer to shore. We lived near a group of mermaids, for a while, and I think she hoped I would see land from the shallows and be satisfied, but… well, you know me. I’m cursed with a bit of wanderlust. Eventually I told her that I wanted to really explore land, and she let me. It took me a while to figure out exactly what I was doing, but eventually I got my hands on a lute and a few classes on the proper way to play it, and I started to walk. It’d been a good few years before I met you, but… well. I don’t think there’s anything significant to tell you there. It’d been the most exciting thing in a while, meeting a handsome witcher, presumably full of stories and action and adventure, and—well, I’ll admit, I got a bit carried away, and my mother would  _ not _ be happy with me if she’d known that I decided to travel with someone whose type is best known for killing people like us, but  _ really _ , you seemed so kind, refusing to kill those elves, I didn’t think it’d be any harm as long as I could keep it hidden, and. Well. I did. For a while. And I was right, for the record, thinking that you were kind, that you wouldn’t hurt me. Just look at us now.”

Jaskier beams. Geralt, for his part, seems to have taken the story mostly in stride, with markedly less complaining than usual (Jaskier would swear, by now, on the merits of a healthier sleep schedule; and then again, maybe Geralt’s just more interested in stories about him being a siren than the things he usually has to say, which stings and elates him in equal parts). The last part actually has him looking a little shy. Jaskier decides it’s cute. 

“I don’t know if I’m… kind,” Geralt says, slowly. Jaskier throws a rock at him. Just a small one.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Geralt.” It’s true; Jaskier likes to lie, loves the thrill of doing what he can’t in his native language, but lying to Geralt makes him feel sick inside for reasons he can’t identify. He thinks it might be the same, now, for Yennefer. That, and he thinks Yennefer would flay him alive if he lied to her (with her love, of course) which makes him feel sick for a different set of reasons. “Really, I thought we talked about this. You’re a good person, Geralt. I wouldn’t stick around if you weren’t.” Jaskier pauses, reconsiders. “Well. Maybe if you were  _ really _ interesting, but I think I’d draw the line if you were, like,  _ supremely _ cruel, unless I could make a  _ really  _ spectacular ballad out of your actions, but you know, Geralt, people like heroic ballads better. Toss a Coin wasn’t just a hit because I’m a siren.”

That gets a little surprise from Geralt. “Really?”

“Yes, you dolt,” Jaskier says, affectionately. “What did you think?”

“Oh.” Geralt actually looks a little abashed. It’s a new day for all sorts of things, apparently; Jaskier is enjoying himself. “When you told me that you were using magic to sing it…” he gestures vaguely.

Jaskier frowns at him for a moment, trying to put things together. It takes a second of considering Geralt’s self-villainization (ridiculous, really, because Jaskier’s probably helped kill as many people, sinking those ships, and he doesn’t feel the last bad about it; except he kind of does, lately, if he thinks about it really hard, which isn’t a good feeling, so he typically elects to just stop thinking about it) and his implied history of isolation to get to the bottom of it. “Did you think people didn’t actually appreciate your feats?” he asks, finally, curious. “Because they did, Geralt. It was only a bit of real singing, honestly. A kickstarter, get it stuck in people’s heads. The appreciation, that was genuine. I didn’t have to change anything—well, anything except the facts of the story, but really, Geralt, what you did was much more heroic, the people just like a little blood, and you did put them right back on that shelf, back up on the mountain, it’s not my fault if people assume that you did it with violence.”

Geralt lets out a soft huff of laughter at that. “Thank you, Jaskier.”

“Costs me nothing to tell the truth. In fact, people seem happy to pay.” Jaskier gives Geralt his best rakish grin; it’s his favorite expression, mischief and enjoyment all in one. 

“You know, Jask…” Geralt pauses a moment, as if evaluating his statement. Jaskier, politely, gives him his full attention. It does seem to make Geralt a little uncomfortable, but Jaskier figures he needs the practice verbalizing his emotions. “I don’t actually mind you talking. It just… grates on my nerves. Sometimes.”

Jaskier nods, sagely. “Grouchy, weren’t you. Cause you weren’t getting enough sleep.”

Geralt laughs, startled, and looks down at his sword, still resting on his lap. “Yes. Sure. I’m sorry, Jaskier.”

Jaskier stops short at that. He hadn’t actually been expecting an apology. It sits, light, on his heart. “Oh. Thank you, Geralt,” he says, suddenly feeling an overflow of emotion.

“I do care about you, you know,” Geralt says, very seriously. “And I don’t intend… to hurt you.”

Jaskier’s got a lot of words. He’s rather good with them, in fact. Now, though, he finds his mind blank, his heart full to bursting. He leans over, before he can stop himself, and places a kiss on Geralt’s cheek. 

And Geralt smiles at him. It’s the hilt of his sword, facing Jaskier, so Jaskier tucks his leg under the protruding hilt and tucks himself up next to Geralt and leans his head on his shoulder. Geralt’s warmth is nice against his cheek, against his side. Jaskier’s lived a life in the ocean; he doesn’t mind the cold, but the warmth of a sunny day and someone he loves next to him is nicer than most things he knows.

“Are we going to meet your mother, when we go to the coast?” Geralt asks, softly.

Oh, well. Jaskier loves his mother. He always tries to visit her, when he goes to the coast. “Probably,” Jaskier says. “And she’s going to kill me, for traveling with you.”

“I’ll protect you,” Geralt says, half-jokingly, and Jaskier feels the softest brush of a kiss against the top of his hair before Geralt goes back to polishing his sword. His heart practically glows.

**Author's Note:**

> there it is! admittedly this was just a little self-indulgent thing with no actual point to it but like. i figured you guys would appreciate the content. 
> 
> remember that fae jaskier work i've been talking about since like halfway through the original fic? yeah, i'm still working on that, but it's over 20k now and i'm on part 4 out of 5 or 6 so like. not without cause. i promise. when i actually finish it you guys are gonna have SO much content, and it's actually beta'd!!! so we're gonna be vibing.
> 
> will i write that fic about geralt and jaskier going to the coast? yeah! at some point! but this fae jask fic is consuming SO much of my creative writing brainspace that i just can't conceptualize picking up anything else right now. sfjkghsdkfj. anyway!
> 
> i hope you liked it! please leave a kudos and/or a comment if you did; i always love to hear from you guys, and if you're all caught up on the whole series, i'd love any suggestions/ideas/things you want to see from the next work! have a great day/night!!!! <3333


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